


Chemical Reaction

by InnerCinema, Kuailong, letthesongtakeflight, SatinSatire



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcoholism, Arguments, F/M, References to Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:44:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3118931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerCinema/pseuds/InnerCinema, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuailong/pseuds/Kuailong, https://archiveofourown.org/users/letthesongtakeflight/pseuds/letthesongtakeflight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatinSatire/pseuds/SatinSatire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their first big fight, Tony and Natasha go their own ways for a few days. Days after the fight Natasha finds out that Tony is not where he should be, and sets off to investigate. Relationships are mended along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chemical Reaction

_"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed."_

_- **Carl Jung**_

 

On the way home from the dinner party they had attended, Natasha remained utterly silent. She kept her hands on the steering wheel, not even bothering to turn and snap at Tony when he continuously tried to fiddle with the A/C and satellite radio settings. She remained silent even when they arrived in the parking garage, and she eased the sports car into the reserved spot.

Tony didn’t really realize something was wrong until Natasha exited the vehicle and stalked toward the elevator. He blinked and fumbled with his seatbelt, hurrying after her. She continued to ignore him.    

“What’s with the silent treatment?” he asked her, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

She shrugged off his hand and stepped into the elevator once it opened; he followed after her.

“Did you really have to drink so much?” she asked, her voice quiet and terse.

He frowned and ran his hand through his hair. “I didn’t really have that much,” he protested. “It was a party, Tasha, and we’ve been through hell lately. I just needed to blow off some steam.”

Natasha kept her gaze focused on the rapidly changing floor numbers on the panel as the elevator ascended. “You got drunk and you got obnoxious,” she said. “It wasn’t funny, and it’s just…” she trailed off, abruptly leaving once the elevator doors opened on their floor.

“It’s just what?” he asked, following her.

She entered her passcode and the doors to their suite instantly opened. “It’s like how Rhodey told me it was before,” she said finally. “When you had a problem.”

“Had. Past tense. I don’t have a problem anymore,” he told her. She continued to walk away from him, heading for the bedroom, and he reached out to touch her shoulders. “Tasha, stop… please.” It suddenly occurred to him that for the first time ever, he wanted to have a serious conversation with a woman he was dating.

Unfortunately, he was still slightly intoxicated so he reacted in probably not the best way.

He laughed.

Natasha whirled around to stare at him. “What’s funny?”

“Uh, nothing,” he answered quickly. “Look, let’s talk about this.”

“You’re still drunk,” she pointed out. “It’s not really the best time to talk about things. We can do it tomorrow, when we’ve both had some sleep.”

“I want to talk now,” he said stubbornly. “I want you to understand that I don’t have a problem with alcohol anymore.”

“All I’m hearing is what you want,” she countered. “That isn’t talking – it’s dictating.”

He laughed again, although he tried to smother it. “Dic-tating.”

Half of Tony wanted to run after her and insist on talking. The other half wanted to snap back at her being so unreasonable and then storm off. And Tony, being drunk, and being Tony, naturally chose the latter.

"You know what – fine," he snapped. "I'm not gonna talk either when you're like this." He didn't give her a chance to reply, didn't even spare a glance for her before storming onto the balcony.  In a flash of red and gold the suit flew into sight and arranged itself around him without breaking his momentum, and he jumped off the edge and flew off. 

In a minute the night was quiet again, punctuated only by the cars and nightlife fifty stories below, instead of by the mechanic whirl of an ostentatious super-powered suit.

With a huff, Natasha marched into the bedroom and plopped heavily onto the bed. "This is why I don't do relationships," she muttered to herself. Too much arguing and talking. Too many emotions. She wanted nothing more than a break from it. 

\----–

Natasha was reminded of why she'd enjoyed the single life for so long. She took long bubble baths, did ballet, read long novels without an attention-hungry boyfriend poking at her. And she didn't have to worry about Tony constantly. She knew that he was safe, in one of his other properties (preferably halfway around the world) and thus was no longer her concern. No more reminding him to sleep or eat, and no more being woken in the middle of the night for sex or cuddling (being woken by her own nightmares was another issue entirely).

The other Avengers knew that they were fighting, from Tony's sudden absence and Natasha's sullenness, but they never brought up Tony's name in front of her. It was the first time they fought, and it seemed as though the others didn't know how to handle it. They started out tiptoeing around her – whether out of concern or fear she didn't know. But they always provided her with welcome distractions; Bruce was a good drinking buddy, training with Steve helped her let off steam, and Clint was just up for anything she wanted to do. 

That was why she enjoyed three whole days of freedom before she considered talking to Tony again. The holiday was nice, but there was always that nagging feeling at the back of her mind that stopped her from enjoying the break entirely. And she would never admit it out loud, but she had more nightmares these past three days than she had in the last two weeks.

Another nightmare and she gave up on sleeping, hauling herself out of bed far too early to be healthy. She started in on a yoga routine, in hopes of calming her own racing heart. It wasn’t working as well as he had hoped it would, so she flowed into harder poses and movements. At least it was letting her mind clear, letting the fog of fear from the dream drift away. But she still couldn’t lose herself. She eventually stopped and sat heavily on the floor. She missed Tony, and, strangely enough, she wanted to make up with him. She was shocked at her own admission of that, rarely had she ever been the one to initiate making up with someone. Mending a relationship. She growled at herself and stood, moving back over to her corner. This time she moved right into Tai Chi, something she hadn’t done in a while. At least it calmed her down enough that she could shower and get dressed in peace. It had also killed enough time that the rest of the tower was waking up. So she did just that, slipping into comfortable clothes. She had a new mission, track down her errant boyfriend.

First she went to Steve, hoping he had an idea where Tony had gone. He didn’t. Neither did Clint or Thor. Bruce also didn’t know. She went to Pepper, who gave her a list of properties, but didn’t know which one he had gone to. She sighed and wandered back to her apartment, list in hand. There were over a dozen places listed, in various parts of North America. Pepper hadn’t given her the list of overseas ones. She flopped down on the couch and sighed again.

“Agent Romanoff?” JARVIS called to her, and her head snapped up. The AI had been fairly quiet to her in the past few days, and she understood why.

“Yeah, JARVIS?” She answered him.

“There is a tracker in the Arc Reactor, only to be activated in times of emergencies. But the tracker shows Sir in an unusual place, so I would count this as an emergency,” the AI said, and Natasha swore she heard concern in his voice.

“Where does it show?” she asked hesitantly. Perhaps she was growing a little worried, and something was tightening in her gut. She suddenly had a bad feeling. And she couldn’t shake it. A holographic map popped up, and a little red dot was placed somewhere in New Jersey.

“Alright, so, he’s not supposed to be there?” Natasha asked, eying the dot and trying to place it on her mental map.

“I am unable to make contact with Sir, and that is unusual.” JARVIS replied, the map zooming in so Natasha could take a better look.

“What else can the tracker tell me?” she asked, holding out her finger and tracing the route from New York City to it. Maybe a three hour drive. If she followed traffic laws.

“Only that Sir is alive and the Arc Reactor is functional,” the AI replied and Natasha winced. Well, it was better than nothing, she had to admit. Still, this was glaringly her fault. She shouldn’t have let him run off like she had, but she hadn’t wanted to deal with him. And that had been selfish.

“Don’t tell anyone else, J. If I’m not back within a day with him, then send the cavalry. Otherwise, this is my mess to clean up,” she said, already taking off towards her little armory. If she found that Tony was just bumming around in that area, making an ass of himself, they were going to have words. But that was the best case scenario, and Natasha would be relieved to find him unharmed, regardless of what he was doing. She doubted they would be that lucky; she was assuming the worst, that he was being held captive, so she armed herself appropriately.

 

Less than twenty minutes after JARVIS told her the news she was on the road in her car, armed with two guns, sufficient ammunition, half a dozen knives in her belt and an extra one in her boot, as well as her trademark Widow's Sting. She had the entire drive to reflect, and though she avoided it at first, it came back in full force after a bit. Her mind was turning, focusing on her part in the fight, and her words replayed themselves over in her mind.

_It's like how Rhodey told me it was before. When you had a problem._

She knew that was unaccounted for and she could have handled it better, but she had been so upset at the time. Natasha definitely felt a little guilty at her part in it. She knew he’d react the way he did, and she still pushed, knowing that she'd drive him to do exactly what he did. And that had gotten him kidnapped.

She shook her head to clear it and focused on driving; she couldn't allow herself to be caught up in the past, not when Tony needed her to quite literally save his life. She got to the dot JARVIS had indicated in just under two hours, breaking every traffic law known to man along the way. The address appeared to be a warehouse, nondescript among its neighbors in the warehouse district. No sooner had she arrived than her phone buzzed and she picked it up, finding that JARVIS was already streaming the tracker data to it. Convenient. She flicked her phone to silent and parked the car a block from the location of the dot. The warehouse district was handy, it would give her plenty of cover.

Moving between the warehouses silently wasn’t much of an issue, given that it was an evening weekend, and eventually she reached the one where the dot was located. She quickly slipped to the back, a gun in her holster with the safety flicked off. There wasn’t anyone guarding the back entrance of the warehouse, so Natasha slipped in, not quite daring to believe that she would be that lucky. She almost immediately ran into a guard. She silently disarmed and incapacitated him in a matter of seconds before he could raise an alarm.

And then she was on the move again. The directions JARVIS streamed to her phone led her to the south end of the building. She ran into several guards on her way through the identical corridors, but they were all alone and she and no problem disarming them.

Finally she came across what looked to be a walled-in office, with two guards outside, both armed with machine guns and had walked-talkies clipped onto their belts. She hovered behind some crates, planning on how to proceed.

Normally she could take out this kind of security without a sweat, but now she had to remain silent, or she would alert the entire warehouse of her presence, and then she'd have to battle her way out, with Tony probably in no state to fight. That ruled out guns.

She considered throwing her knife at one, but then the other would call for help at once. She had decided that she there was nothing for it and she had to throw two knives in succession and hope that she would be fast enough, when a third guard arrived and she shrunk back behind the crates.

This guy was big, taller and buffer than the two guards. "Open up," he ordered the guards. "Boss says we gotta make Stark talk today."

Natasha narrowed her eyes as she stored this new information. They obviously needed something from Tony, and this guy was here to interrogate him. Natasha shuddered at the thought of how that would go.

One of the guards produced a key and unlocked the door, Buff Guy went in and closed the door behind him, though he didn't lock it. She heard voices, his gruff voice and a barely audible voice that was only just as recognisable as Tony's. Then there was a loud slap of leather on flesh and a cry of pain.

That was her cue; Natasha jumped out from behind the crates, flinging a knife into one guard's throat. He hadn't hit the ground yet when his friend turned at her, open-mouthed with shock, and another knife stuck itself in his throat. Natasha kicked the door open and pointed her gun at Buff Guy's head.

"Move away from him."

Tony's head snapped up at the sound of her voice. He was kneeling on the floor, his body was sagging and would have crumpled to a heap were it not for the rope, suspended from the ceiling, that bound his wrists. Natasha didn't allow herself to glance at him, she didn't trust herself to see the full extent of his injuries just yet. 

Buff Guy was frozen, the belt that he had thrashed Tony with limp in his hands. "Put your hands up," Natasha said with forced calmness. "And give me that."

Still facing Tony, Buff Guy lifted his hands slowly. He started to turn, in slow motion, towards Natasha. Then lightning-fast he whipped the belt towards her. Natasha tried to sidestep it but she was caught off guard by his sudden motion and the leather slapped against her cheek. She cried out, it stung sharply. He struck her again, but this time she anticipated the move, ducked and tangled her legs with his to trip him over. When he was on the floor she leaned over him and fired the Widow's Bite into both sides of his neck. He spasmed for a moment and lay still.

She immediately knelt in front of Tony. She cradled his face in her hands, unable to speak as she took in the weight of his injuries. One eye was so swollen and purple that he could barely keep it open. Blood oozed from a cut in his forehead, and his nose and chin were caked in flaking dried blood. She could see various other wounds, both open and healing, on his body, but at least all his limbs and digits looked intact.

She cut the rope around his wrists that held him upright, and he collapsed into her arms. She held him against her, his head resting on her shoulder. She wove her fingers into his hair on the nape of his neck, aware of the dried blood that coated the dark strands. Her heart hammered loudly, drumming out an accusation. This was her fault, she was the reason he was tortured and hurt.

"Knew you couldn't stay away from me for long," he grunted, his voice hoarse.

She couldn't help exclaiming, "You utter idiot!" Despite her words she clutched him tighter. "I'm so sorry," she murmured.

He tried to smile at her but his whole face hurt too much, and it looked more like a grimace. He sighed deeply and tried to look as pathetic as possible, not that it was difficult. “There better be more to your apology than just that.”

“Least you sound like yourself,” she muttered, helping him get to his feet.

It took a long time but she was able to help him back into the car. She gave him bottled water to drink, and that soothed some of the pain in his throat. He flipped down the sun visor and winced when he saw his face in the tiny mirror. “Oh, I look like hell.” He turned and looked at her once she was in the drivers seat, and he stared at the bruise forming on her cheek. “You’re hurt too!" 

“It’s nothing. Really. I was just too slow, that’s all.” She sent him a reassuring smile before starting the car. “Try to get as comfortable as possible. It’s going to be a bit of a drive.”

“I could try to--”

“No. It’s okay. I’ve got this, Tony.”

He thought about arguing but he was simply too tired. He ended up falling asleep, his head resting at an uncomfortable angle against the window.

Natasha snuck glances over at him occasionally, guilt sitting like lead in her belly. He hadn’t blamed her, hadn’t been angry with her, and hadn’t pointed out that she had acted like a bitch. Because she had. She knew she shouldn’t have pushed him but she did, and she hated that this had happened. 

“Guess I’m a shitty girlfriend,” she whispered to herself. “No surprise there.”

Tony stirred, hearing her. “What?"

“I’m…” She trailed off, glancing at him briefly. “I caused this. Because of the fight.”

“Tasha, please. We both said things we shouldn’t have, and both did dumb things. Okay, maybe that was more me,” he conceded. “Anyway, this happened because my face is plastered over all of the media, because I’m filthy rich, because I have inventions and weapons strewn all over. Because I’m a superhero, blah-fucking-blah. It did not happen because of you.” He twirled his finger in the air. “So quit with the magical thinking and the thought that because you pissed me off, I got kidnapped.”

“I knew it was a bad idea to let you read my psychology texts,” she said, but when she looked at him her smile seemed more relaxed.

“I could write my own,” he said smugly.

“So nice to see the narcissism is back,” she sighed.

He laughed and then, worn out by that brief exchange, fell back to sleep. Once she got home, she knew there wasn’t a chance she could lug him inside on her own. So she swallowed her embarrassment and pride, and called Bruce.

She sat in the car and watched Tony, waiting for Bruce. She wasn’t entirely sure how she was going to explain this to Bruce. Or anyone on the team. She imagined Steve would give her that disappointed face that everyone always dreaded. Natasha heaved a sigh and stepped out of the car, still working out in her mind what she was going to say. She hadn’t figured much out by the time Bruce arrived in the parking garage. He took one look at her and raised an eyebrow, but she shook her head.

“I can’t carry him all the way up to our floor, and I don’t want to wake him up.” She explained, motioning to the open door where Tony was dozing. Bruce’s other eyebrow rose at the state of Tony, but he approached the car and hefted Tony in his arms.

“So why’d you call me? Steve or Thor would be better for this.” Bruce said, as she closed the door and locked up the car. Those actions were followed by a sigh.

“One, I knew you wouldn’t ask too many questions. Two, I knew you wouldn’t assume the worst. And three, you’d be able to tell if he was seriously hurt. Which leads me to ask, is he?” She walked beside Bruce, and when she asked her question, she turned to him, letting her worry show on her face.

“Doesn’t look like it, no. But I’d actually have to examine him to give you a definitive answer.” With those words Tony stirred in Bruce’s arms and groaned.

“What? No. I’m fine. Put me down, I can walk. Are you carrying me bridal style, Bruce? That’s sweet, but I can walk. I’m fine.” Tony pushed against Bruce’s chest ineffectively and Natasha sighed again. By that point they were exiting the elevator and her and Tony’s floor, so Bruce carted him over to the couch and set him down.

“Obviously he’s fine.” Bruce deadpanned, turning to place a hand on Natasha’s shoulder. They shared a moment where she non-verbally promised to explain to him what happened, and then he was leaving.

“At least you didn’t call Steve. That would have been a mess.” Tony said to her, a partial grin on his face.

“Uh-huh. We need to talk, Tony. So this doesn’t happen again.” Natasha said, perching on the couch beside him. She was still eating herself up with guilt, but maybe they could be proactive about this.

“Right. Talking.” Tony said drowsily, leaning on her and resting his head on her shoulder. She supposed the talk could wait. They had time, after all. For now he was home, he was safe, and together, they would heal.


End file.
